“Captain, we have lost propulsion. Unable to correct to escape
velocity. Computer calculates twenty minutes to no-return.”
Captain Romero set down her coffee and rose with practiced calm.
“Red alert. Lock down. Call Engineering. Bring someone from
Science.”
“Red Alert, Aye. Lock down, Aye. Engineering on comms, Ma’am.”
Romero’s voice rose.
“What have you done to my ship? We’re supposed to slingshot the
neutron star, not take a core sample!”
“Ma’am, gravity flare extinguished the core. We need an hour to restore
thrust.”
“You have…”
“..nineteen minutes,” the computer announced.
The captain grimaced and cut comms.
“Science officer at bridge, Ma’am.”
Romero unlocked the door. A blue uniform entered, studied the screens,
spoke.
“Decaying orbit into a black hole. Grav-differentials will pull us
apart. To reduce our size along the gradient and recover momentum, we
should jettison most of the ship.”
“I need most of the ship to get us home,” Romero said. “Who are
you?”
“Linari. The interstellar herpetologist.”
“Space Snakes?”
“My dissertation was with Joseph.Campbell.13.7-D-17 and
Alan.Guth.7.9-C-12. Ouroboros as a model for sentient gas compression in
stellar nurseries.”
“English, please!”
“The swirling matter being sucked into the black hole may be intelligent
on a vast spatiotemporal scale. Communicating via gravitational waves. I
am trying to talk to it but a single concept takes…”
“18 minutes,” the computer announced.
“…days,” the scientist finished, deflated.
Romero sat down and rubbed her face.
“Get me Demolition.”
She picked up her coffee. It was still warm.